In the end
by frukforever
Summary: It is the early 1800s, and the young British prince is very happy with his lover, despite the lover being from a lower class, and a male. What happens, when one day this Frenchman is sent away from the palace, and Arthur is told he is never going to see him again? Is there any chance in that unfair world for these two souls to express the love that they feel for each other?
1. Caught

In the silence of the huge palace, the teenager slowly walked down the hallways. It was the earliest hours of the morning; even the servants weren't awake yet. Careful not to make any sound, he stepped out of the wooden doors, trembling lightly as the cold autumn wind hit his skin and ruffled his hair. Running, he made his way to the stables, opening the doors and heading inside, sighing in relief at the warmth.

Since his arrival had not been noticed, he stood there silently for a moment. He watched the few years older stableman do his work. He watched the long blond locks sway as he moved, even though they had been tied up on a pony tail, he watched how the muscles of the man's back moved when he threw some hay to the horses.

As he realized it was going to be very awkward to explain why he had been staring, he cleared his throat, letting the other know he was there.

"Arthur…", the Frenchman's voice was so soft, so loving as he said the name of the younger male He dropped what he was doing and walked over to the British one, pulling him into his arms, embracing him tightly yet still so gently.

"What are you doing awake so early?" he murmured as he pressed a gentle little kiss on the other one's forehead. And even though Arthur was furrowing his brow a bit and blushing, acting like he didn't want to be in the other's arms, he couldn't help but admit quietly to himself that he was happy like that, feeling so safe and loved.

"I wanted to come and see you…", Arthur said quietly, slowly placing his head on the other one's shoulder, breathing in the soft scent of the Frenchman. Now as he had his face hidden, he allowed a soft smile spread onto his light pink lips, his eyes falling closed as he just rested there, feeling so relaxed.

A soft chuckle left the Frenchman's lips and he gently nuzzled his nose into the other one's hair. "How sweet of you", he whispered, keeping the Briton close to him. "Did you make sure no one saw you coming here?" Of course he knew that the other knew how to be careful, but he wanted to make sure. Arthur's father was the king, and he would not hesitate punishing him if he'd find out that Arthur had been visiting him secretly. After all, it was denied by law for a man from first class to love servant, and the fact they were both men didn't make things any better.

Arthur sighed, nodding as he pressed a sweet, innocent kiss on the skin of the taller male's neck. "I'm not a child, Francis; I know how to stay quiet about this. I don't want anything to happen to you…", he whispered, running his hand down the other one's chest.

"Je sais, je sais… I just… I do not want to lose you", Francis murmured as he held the other one close to him.

As they stood there in the middle of the stables, arms wrapped around each other, bodies so close to one another; they seemed to lost the track of time. All they could think about was the scent of the other, the feel of their lips pressing against each other into the sweetest kiss.

"Sir Arthur! Sir Arthur? Where are you?"

Eyes widening in fear and panic, the Briton pulled away from the other's arms, but too late. The guard had already slammed open the doors to the stables, the other guard following right behind. Their eyes seemed to be filled with the fire of fury, but not towards Arthur, of course not.

"Francis Bonnefoy, you are under arrest!"

One of the guards twisted the stableman's arms behind his back, locking them there and so making sure that there was not even the slightest chance for him to escape. Francis didn't protest; only a small groan of pain left his lips. The other guard kicked him in the knees, making him fall down on the ground with a rather loud thump.

"Francis! Let him go! That's an order!" the prince yelled, scaring the horses of the stable, but not seeming to have any kind of effect to the guards.

"I am really sorry, your highness, but you know the laws. This filthy stableman is not allowed to touch a noble like you. And you, your majesty, most certainly should not be here seeing him."

With a hopeless look in his eyes, Arthur searched for the other man's deep blue eyes, hoping to find some comfort and answers from the calm blue they always held.

"Arthur, please, just go… I don't want you to get into any trouble", Francis whispered quietly, only to get one of the guards to hit him hard at his chin.

"It's your highness to you, servant. Scum like you should not talk like that to an aristocrat", the guard spit, and the Frenchman lowered his head. The young prince hesitated for a small moment, but then, as he saw the pleading look in his lover's eyes, he left the stables, running into his room. It was entirely his fault; if only he would have been careful and left the stables early enough, nothing would have happened.

Francis was taken to the cells. It was dark in there, the walls so wet that there was moss growing on them. There was hardly any light, and the little that there was came from torches; there was no natural light to tell the prisoners what time of the day it was.

There weren't that much of prisoners. It was not the place where the men and women would spend the rest of their sentence. They were just kept there until their trial. And after the trial, the luckiest ones were set free, whereas those who were condemned were sent to do different kinds of manual labor. From what Francis had heard, it was very different from the normal manual labor that the free people did; the prisoners worked from the very start of the day to when the sun would set.

The Frenchman lifted his look from the stone floor as he heard steps coming down the stairs that led to the cells.

"Arthur, you idiot… What are you doing here? Your father is going to kill you", Francis whispered quietly, though he reached his hand through the bars, soon feeling Arthur's soft, gentle fingers intertwine with is own ones, bringing him the comfort that he needed.

Arthur gently pressed against the bars, reaching his free hand through them to gently stroke the Frenchman's hair. He brought his head closer to his, pressing a small kiss on his lips. "You don't have to worry for me, love…", he whispered as they parted, gazing into the other's eyes. He hated the fact he was not able to hug Francis and feel his arms around him. "My father said I was allowed to come here once…"

'To see me one last time…' Francis found himself thinking. It was such a horrible thought not to be able to see his beloved Arthur ever again. But tomorrow, after his trial, it was most probably going to be true.

"Mon amour…", Francis whispered softly, moving his hand to gently stroke the man's cheek, one finger running across his lips, feeling them as gently as he only could. He was going to miss Arthur so much, he knew he would not be able to move on. Arthur had been his first love, and he was sure he was his only one as well. It was so hard to picture himself with someone else than his sweet little Briton.

"You have to promise me something, alright?" Arthur didn't say a thing, just nodded, eyes locked with the elder male. "No matter what your father says in the trial, no matter what me and the guards say, you are not going to say a single thing, okay? Don't tell them what really is between the two of us, you'll only get yourself into trouble."

Arthur hesitated. He didn't want everyone to think that Francis was a bad man, he wanted his reputation to be cleaned. He wanted to tell everyone that Francis had not done a single thing wrong, he wanted to tell them that he loved him. "But-" His protests were cut by a pair of lips pressing onto his own ones. "Arthur, please… Do it for me…", Francis whispered as the kiss was broken.

With a small sigh leaving his lips, Arthur gave a small nod. "Alright, then… I'll do it for you", he whispered, giving the other a soft smile. "I love you, Francis", he whispered, and he really meant those words. Francis was the most important thing in the whole world to him. "I love you too, Arthur, and I always will", the servant replied, the other man's loving expression reflected in his own one.

"Arthur! I told you not to touch that filthy rat!" The king himself had been looking for his son, and was now standing there, anger in his eyes. He pushed Arthur away, pushing his hand arm through the bars to slap the Frenchman at his cheek. Without a single word of protest, Francis bowed, lowering his gaze to the ground.

"Father! Don't hit him!" Arthur shouted with wide eyes, clinging to his father's arm, looking at the old man's face, the expression on his own face begging and pleading.

"He deserved. And even if he didn't, you do not have the rights to say what I can and cannot do", the king said, not even glancing at Francis before he tugged the prince away with him.

"I love you", the desperate Englishman mouthed to Francis as he turned to look at him for one last time before he and his father disappeared into the stairs.

Letting a small, rather defeated sigh leave his lips, Francis sat down on the floor of the cell. The water that was leaking down the walls of the small room seeped through the fabric of his shirt, making him shiver in cold.

Tomorrow he would see Arthur the last time in his whole life, if the Briton was to attend the trial. And even if he did, Francis knew he would not be allowed to talk to the other man, he would not be able to say good bye. And that hurt him in ways he had not even known that it was possible to be hurt.

His heart was screaming for Arthur to be there with him, every part of his soul was graving for the other to be in his arms. He had always known that they could not be together for the rest of their lives, but he had not wanted it all to end like this.


	2. Separated

**I won't be posting new chapters very regularly, sorry about that, but I'll try my best. Also, my new computer doesn't have spellcheck, so sorry for any possible mistakes! Happy new year, everyone!**

Francis was held by two guards, each of them clinging to one of his arms, treating him like he was a dangerous criminal. The night spent in the cell had ruined his clothes; there were stains everywhere. His hair was uncombed and the ribbon had fallen off sometime during the night. He had not been allowed to wash up. He had been treated like a worthless thing, not even a human.

The whole crowd that had gathered to the court fell silent as the Frenchman was ruthlessly thrown to the ground in front of the king. Since this was about his own son, he had not allowed the royal judge to judge him; he wanted to be the one to punish Francis.

"Francis Bonnefoy. You are accused of breaking the law of intercourse between two people from different social classes. Not only have you constantly been trying to seduce Prince Arthur, you have also forced him into different kinds of physical actions, ones that I cannot say aloud in front of this court. Do you want to deny these deeds?"

Arthur was fuming with rage towards his father. How could he even say such things? He was claiming in front of all these people who personally knew Francis, that the Frenchman was a rapist. Which of course wasn't true; the other man was as gentle and loving as a being only could be. He had never had to fear when he was in the other man's company.

"Father! I beg your pardon, but Francis has-"

"Non, I have done all the things you said."

"What?! Francis, you know that-"

Francis looked at the British male with a pleading look in his eyes. "Your Highness, please, don't", he said quietly, then turning towards the king, bowing at him lightly. "Your majesty, I have no reason to deny any of those deeds. I've done it all, and I'm more than willing to take responsibility of my actions."

There was a satisfied grin on the king's lips. "Very well. Your sentence is ten years of labor. And even after those ten years, you are not allowed to return here. Stay away from me and my son's eyes, understood?"

Not saying a word, the Frenchman simply nodded, accepting his fate. He knew he was innocent and had done nothing wrong, but he was willing to take the punishment if it meant that Arthur was going to be safe. He wouldn't even be able to live with himself if his beloved one was going to get into trouble because of him.

Ignoring the loud protests of Arthur, the guards led Francis away from the court. He was pushed into a cart with all the other prisoners, they all chained up to make sure none of them was going to escape. The guards gave a sign to the driver, and with one of the horses neighing, the cart began to move. The road to the fields where they would be working was long, and they didn't stop even once. It was awfully cold in the cart and silent, none of them complaining about what was going to happen.

Later that night, after countless of hopeless attempts to get his father to pardon Francis, Arthur headed to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He couldn't believe he had lost Francis, he couldn't believe he would never see him again. Letting his desperate tears finally escape his eyes, he slumped down on his bed, pushing his face into the pillows, his breath shuddering.

"I-I should be there i-instead of Francis… H-He did nothing wrong… Not ever…", he whispered quietly to himself, allowing himself to just break down into a sobbing, crying mess.

Sniffling and wiping the remaining tears off his face, he slowly got up from his bed. His legs were trembling as he walked in front of the window, just gazing at the beautiful rose garden that was underneath his window. He couldn't count the times he had woken up to the sound of small rocks hitting his window, and as he'd open it, he would receive a beautiful bouquet of the reddest roses there was. Wistfully he pressed his hand against the cold glass of the window, a small, breathless sob leaving his lips.

As the door to his room opened, he didn't even bother to turn around and see who it was. When he knew that it couldn't be Francis, it didn't matter.

He let his eyes fall closed as arms gently wrapped around him and pulled him into a gentle, loving embrace. His senses were filled with that loving care, the sweet smell of perfume overwhelming him.

"Shh… Darling", his mother, the queen, whispered quietly, holding his son gently in his arms, rocking him from side to side. Seeking for warmth and comfort, the young prince turned around in his mother's hold, pressing his face agaisnt her shoulder, his silent tears wetting the silk of her gown. In her youth, the queen had had a lover of his own, a man who she so dearly loved. Separated from that man, he had been forced to marry his husband, only because his selfish parents wanted her to have the power. Her heart still so desperately craving for true love she never got, she could understand how her son must feel.

"Sweetheart... Francis is going to be alright, I promise you..." Of course she could not promise that. Once a man has been sent to a prison, his life shall never be the same it was. Most likely Francis would never have a job again, nor would he have a place to live in. That was, if Francis was even going to survive the prison. She had heard so many tales about the ment that were sent to build ships for the royal navy, and they would die there, exhausted and worn out. But of course, that was not something you can tell to a man who has just broken his heart.

Arthur sniffled quietly, his hand grasping the back of the older one's gown, his hold of her desperate. "You are... You are not angry at me for loving him?" he whispered quietly. He had always known that his mother had a heart made of gold and that she was nowhere as cruel as his father was, but still, he had been scared. He had been scared that the whole family would despise him because of his feelings towards a male servant.

"Oh, dear... Of course not! Even though I do know that the relationship between you and him was, and still is, against the laws, I could not ever hate you. A mother is not a good mother if she doesn't love his children no matter what," she said with a gentle smile, her fingers combing through the Prince's hair. Nothing in this world would be able to turn her against her own son; not the laws, not the opinion of the king. The love of a mother is stronger than anything else in the world. In the case of her own mother, there had not been any love. There had only been a ruthless woman who wanted her daughter to be the queen, to rule the country.

She sighed quietly, gently patting the man's back, then giving him a soft squeeze. "Arthur... I know that you feel heart-broken right now, and I also know that you will feel like that for a long time. But you have to let go at some point, darling... Francis wouldn't want you to be sad for the rest of your life, would he?"

Those words left Arthur silent as he fell into the thoughts of Francis, thinking about where he was now, what he was doing. What was he going to do in the future, and was he ever going to be included to the man's future?

Deep in his thoughts, he was left there standing alone, her mother quietly leaving the room after placing a kiss on the Prince's forehead.

And that night, as he laid down to sleep on the luxurious bed in his room, he made a decision. No matter what would happen during the next ten years, and no matter what were the consequenses of his actions, he was going to find Francis again when the man would be set free. Even if it would take him years, even if he was going to have to travel around the whole world, he would not give up. A long time ago he had realized that he and the Frenchman belonged together, and there was nothing that could stop the two of them from having their happiness.


	3. The Spaniard and the Prussian

It took two days from the cart to reach the fields were the prisoners would be working at. It was definitely not the most beautiful place; the fields were all muddy, the building where they were supposed to live was near to its collapsing. In fact, it looked like no one had been there for years.

A police officer came over to the bunch of prisoners, a harsh look on his face. It was quite easy to see that he wasn't very happy about working here either. The man who had been driving the cart got down from his seat, helping the police to get the prisoners down form the cart in order and to get them into a line.

The police then counted the men. He didn't ask for names, he didn't ask for crimes or where they had come from. To him, all that mattered that there were exactly the twenty men that his boss had told there was going to be. Names were needless for scum like them, they were not worth a single thing.

Still chained up like animals, the men were led to the small storage where they would get the equipments from. There were no horses for them to pull the plows, there were no clothes for them to change or put over their regular clothes so they wouldn't get stained.

Working with only the strength of their own arms helping them, the men worked until the sun set and it became too dark for anyone to see what they were doing. Completely out of breath, his clothes in an even worse condition than before, Francis followed the other prisoners inside the barn like building where they were going to be spending their next ten years. Only when they were all inside, the chains were opened. It was obvious that the men were not trusted, though; the door of the barn was locked as soon as the police officer stepped out.

Even though Francis knew he should not be judging anyone there just because they looked like a man who could actually hurt someone on purpose, he had to admit to himself that he was not really looking forward to talking to these people. Sure, he wanted to be in good terms with all of them; he didn't really want to get into any fights, but being friends with them? Well, maybe not.

He took the bed in the corner for himself. All of the beds were bunk beds, and like any other human being, he picked the top bunk since he had the choice. There was not much he could do as he climbed on the bed, sitting there with his legs crossed. None of them had been allowed to take anything with them, besides the clothes they had been wearing when they had been declared guilty. Most of the men were alredy talking with each other, bragging with the things they had done.

"And then I twisted his neck! You should have heard the sound when it cracked, and the scream-"

Francis shook his head quietly, not wanting to listen to that anymore. Sure, he was a strong man and would be capable of hurtin someone if he wanted, but to him, violence was not a way to solve anything. And bragging with hurting someone, it was just sick. If he only could, he decided, he would avoid talking about pretty much anything with these men.

He must have been lost in the thoughts swirling inside his head as he had not noticed two men standing below him, staring at him. Only when the bed dipped in the weight of the two climbing on his bunk, he jumped, turning to look at them.

"Mon dieu... You scared me...", he muttered under his breath, observing the two men for a moment. The other was a lot paler than anyone he had ever seen, and his eyes were crimson red. 'An albino...', Francis thought. When he had been a child, there had been all these horror stories about albinos, how they were demons and ate children's souls. Of course he didn't believe those stories; albinos were just like any other people. He was not one to judge.

The other man was like the complete opposite of the first one. He was tanned, his hair was dark and his eyes a deep brown. The paler man had a piercing look in his eyes, the sparkle in them making it seem like he was somewhat amused, and his lips were twisted into a rather crooked smile. The other man, he seemed to be a very relaxed person, the smile on his lips almost lazy.

He hated to be judging people by their looks, but the former man looked much more like a criminal than the latter one.

"You don't seem like you ever commited a crime", the paler man said all suddenly, and Francis' raised his eyebrows, as if urging the other to continue. "You have that kind of look in your eyes... You know, all... What is it called, Toni?"

When addressed, the tanned man gave a lazy grin, looking at the Frenchman. "Innocent", he said, and the pale man nodded.

"Oh, well...", Francis muttered, awkwardly running a hand through his hair, trying to smooth down it at least a little bit. "I guess what I did was agaisnt the law, but I don't really think it was a crime."

The two men looked at each other, the silver-haired one snickering a bit. "Yeah, that's what everyone says. I'm Gilbert, I'm in here for shooting a man", the pale man said, the words of his past actions falling from his lips as regularly as any other word would. At least he wasn't bragging about it, Francis thought.

"And I'm Antonio. I'm here for stealing a child." Francis was honestly taken aback by that. Stealing a child, now who would ever do that? He must have looked even scared, since Gilbert placed his hand on Francis' shoulder, the touch actually shoothign him down. "Relax, we are not bad people. I shot that man because he was beating up my little brother. I didn't even kill him or anything; I just shot him in the knee to make sure he would not hurt Ludwig anymore. I really hope he learned his lesson, there's no one to look after Ludwig when I'm not there", the German male said, looking down. Even though he tried to hide the feelings messing inside his head, it was clear that he was worried for his bother, and scared that something might happen to him.

Francis slowly placed his hand on Gilbert's back, rubbing it comfortingly. Even though the two of them had just met each other, the German didn't seem to mind his action, instead he relaxed a little bit.

"And if you think that I stole that child for some perverted reasons, you are wrong. I would not ever hurt him, and I only did it to save him", Antonio said, and now as he spoke more, Francis was able to notice the Spanish accent of his. "You see, Lovino was never really treated well at his home. His mother yelled at him all the time and his father kept beating him up. He was always left in the shadow of his brother. I wanted to offer him a better life, I wanted to take care of him", Toni continued.

"I would have been a great father for him, I really would...", he said, his voice wavering slightly and Gilber hugged him gently. "It's alright, Toni, it's alright... You did what you could for him."

Francis honestly didn't know what to say. He had been misled when he had been taught that every single prisoner is bad. These two hadn't meant to do anything bad, they had only tried to help the people that were dear to them.

"So? What about you?" Gilber then asked, his piecring red eyes staring straight into Francis' eyes. The normally so talkative Frenchman was quiet for a while, hesitating before he would answer.

"I... I was caught with a man from upper class. I was then accused of raping him, and that's pretty much why I'm here", Francis said, a bit nervous about how the two of them would react to this. Homosexual weren't really treated well, and he was quite sure that criminals weren't too fond on them either.

"Be glad you told that to us and no one else. They would have kicked your ass for being a fag", the German said, looking around, as if trying to make sure that no one had heard what Francis had just told them.

"Be quiet about it, okay? It's not like me and Toni are screaming to the world about our sexualities", he then said, giving a small smile, showing the Frenchman that he most certainly did not mean to offend him.

"Lights out!" the police officer yelled from outside the barn, and so the prisoners put out the fire of the candles, the whole barn turning dark. Antonio and Gilber headed over to their own beds, and the bunk underneath Francis' top one stayed emtpy.

He was glad he had talked to Antonio and Gilbert, at least he would not be alone if there was to be a fight or something. But as soon as he was laying there in the darkness, surrounded by silence, his thoughts wandered to Arthur. The pain in his heart was horrible, he had never thought he would miss someone so much.


End file.
